I could see the memory written all over his face. The last time I had been here. Parol. I shudder. Glad that meeting hadn’t gone according to plan.
The room smells. It’s subtle, not strong or overpowering and not exactly unpleasant but there enough for it to be distracting.
I grit my teeth. Try to look away. Try to focus on something else. Remind myself that I’m not supposed to be here. Remind myself how angry she’ll be if I intervene.
Absently I reach for my pocket, toying with the letter there that’s no doubt beyond salvation, as wet as I got trying to change the tire.